


Miracle

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related: nightshift, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post SentinelToo, Night Shift</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miracle

## Miracle

by Texas Ranger

Author's disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, but who am I to refuse their request for political asylum?

* * *

Miracle 
    
    
            "Detective Ellison? He's gone. It's time to let him go."
            The doctor's voice was soft and compassionate, but Jim reacted as though
    

to a grave insult. He jumped up and grabbed the man by the lapels, slammed him against the wall and snarled, "No! Don't you touch him! He's not dead, you son of a bitch, he's not!" The doctor nodded calmly and laid a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Okay. Take some time and think about it, Detective, please. His EEG is flatlined, and the only thing keeping him breathing is the machine. Mr. Sandburg was a brilliant, lively man. Do you really think he'd want to go on like this?" Jim let go of the doctor's coat and sank back into the chair. "Just get the fuck out," he said emotionlessly. The doctor squeezed his shoulder once and left. 

As soon as he heard the door close and the threat to his Guide was gone, Jim picked up Blair's hand again. He stroked the long curls and whispered, "It's okay, Chief. It's okay. Don't listen to them,babe. You're going to be fine." Jim continued to pet Blair's hair, murmuring reassurances, with the hiss of the ventilator his only companion. It was all Jim's fault. He had thrown Blair out of the loft and out of his life, and Alex Barnes had gotten him. "I was only trying to protect you, Chief," he said miserably. "I thought she'd leave you alone and come after me. I was going to beg you to come back when she was gone, I swear. I never wanted to kick you out of your home. Our home." Jim fell silent, remembering the night Blair had moved in with him. Jim liked him, but hadn't wanted the sweet, bratty, manic, overeager anthropologist in his home. He liked his space, and living alone helped him maintain a distance from others, especially from this kid for whom he'd started to have unhealthy feelings. "No," Jim said. 

"Please, Jim," Blair begged. "My back is up against a wall here." Irritated and prepared to refuse unconditionally, Jim had made the mistake of looking down into the baby blue eyes that were gazing imploringly up at him. Blair blinked twice in a flutter of long lashes, and Jim's heart melted. How could he leave poor, innocent Blair Sandburg to fend for himself on the streets? He wouldn't last a minute, and the thought of someone harming him... "One week," Jim relented roughly, scowling to hide the softness that had crept into his eyes. Three years later, Jim and Blair were inseparable. Living, working, and vacationing together. Not that the arrangement didn't have its downside. Jim's military neatness clashed violently with Blair's casual mess, and Jim often found himself haranguing his roommate mercilessly about small transgressions of the house rules. "I'm sorry, Blair," Jim muttered into the deaf ear. "I wish I could take back all the grief I gave you about those stupid rules. Come back to me, Chief," he entreated. "I'll treat you better, I promise, just don't 
    
    
    leave me."      Blair didn't-couldn't-respond. 
            Jim allowed himself to zone out on the feel of Blair's soft hair. He
    

was safe in the zone-out, safe from the slow, rhythmic sound of the machines giving Blair the illusion of life, pulling Jim toward the final, irrevocable decision. He may have stayed motionless, forever cocooned from reality, except for a hand on his shoulder and a soft voice calling him back. "Jim. Jim, come out of it, man. Come on, Jim." 

Jim snapped out of it, and looked up at Simon Banks standing above him. "Simon," Jim acknowleged tonelessly. Simon pulled up a chair next to the Sentinel and faced him. "Dr. Jackson called me," he said gently. "He thinks you need someone to help you...put things in perspective." When Jim didn't respond, Simon gestured toward the still, silent figure in the bed. "Look at him, Jim. Blair's not there. He's gone, and all that's left is a shell. I know how much you cared about him, but-" "Do you, Simon?" Jim asked softly. "Do you really? I don't think so." He looked into his captain's eyes. "I love him, Simon. I love him." Simon nodded, unsurprised. "I thought so. But if you do love him, you'll let him go. Blair wouldn't want this, man. Please, Jim. Give the kid some peace. Let him die with dignity. Don't make him linger like this." Jim looked at Blair's motionless body, and for the first time allowed himself to see that the animated face was blank, the restless hands not waving through the air to illustrate a story, the dynamic blue eyes closed forever. The only thing connecting Blair Sandburg to life was the machine that breathed for him. As Blair's power of attorney Jim could keep Blair's body alive indefinitely. But what would happen then? He'd be moved to some substandard nursing home where he'd be ignored by the overworked nurses, left with no one to love him until the bedsores and degeneration 
    
    
    claimed his body.       "Okay," Jim said quietly.
            Simon put his arm around Jim's shoulder and hugged him, macho image
    

bedamned. "Good, Jim. You're doing the right thing. For Blair, and for yourself." He stood and laid a hand on Blair's forehead. "Goodbye, Blair," 
    
    
    he said simply.         "Simon? Will you ask a nurse to bring me some things
    to clean him up before...I just want to..."     "Sure, Jim." Simon left.
            Jim sat silently, holding Blair's hand until the nurse came in carrying
    

a load of towels and bath items. "I didn't know what you'd want, so I brought some of everything," she said. "Thanks." 
    
    
            "Do you want some help?" she asked hesitantly.
            Jim shook his head. "I need to have him to myself for awhile."
            The nurse nodded. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison. He's-he was-beautiful." 
    

Jim smiled wanly. "I know." 

Jim sorted through the things the nurse had brought. He decided to bathe Blair first, so he filled the bath basin with warm water and unwrapped the bar of soap. He pulled off the hospital gown and began to wash his Guide's bare skin carefully, cleaning and rinsing the sweat and pond water off the beautiful body. Jim talked to his friend to cover the silence. "I'm just going to clean you up a little, okay, Chief? There. Feel better? You were always so ticklish, especially around your sides...now let me get your face...I'll be careful..." Jim dried Blair completely, then started on his back. "Okay, babe, now I'm going to roll you on your side a little...okay...lets get your back...you always loved having your back rubbed, didn't you?" Jim continued to bathe his Guide with a gentle circular motion until every inch of skin was clean. Jim knew he was postponing the inevitable, but he couldn't leave Blair's hair dirty, so he positioned Blair's head over the inflatable wash basin and poured a pitcher of warm water over the long curls, wetting them completely. "You were always so proud of this hair," he said, working the shampoo through it. "You could never stand to have your hair dirty, could you?" he asked fondly. "I know this isn't your shampoo, but it's all I have." Jim rinsed well, then wrapped a towel around Blair's head and dried as thoughroughly as possible, squeezing the water from every curl until all that remained was to comb it out. Jim lifted Blair against his shoulder and combed through the wavy mass, painstakingly untangling it until it lay like Blair liked it. Jim put the comb down and held Blair close. "It's time, Chief," he said softly. Jim reached up and methodically shut off the machines, leaving the ventilator for last. He removed the IV from Blair's arm, unhooked the heart monitor, and took the pulse-ox from Blair's finger. He looked at the young man lying limp in his arms, then reached over and switched off the vent. Jim pulled the tube from Blair's throat and held his Guide while he exhaled his final breath against Jim's neck. The tears that Jim never expected to cry for anyone finally came. He rocked Blair and stroked his damp hair, moaning softly. "I love you, Blair," Jim whispered. "Wait for me, Chief. I'll be with you soon." Jim had no desire to go on living without his anchor. He would sign the proper paperwork then go home and kill himself. Jim didn't know what was on the other side, but he new Blair would be there waiting, and that was enough. He laid Blair on the bed and kissed his forehead gently. Wanting to offer more, Jim knelt by the bed and clasped his hands over Blair's. He began a prayer to whatever god may be listening, but all he could manage was one soft word: "Please." Unable to contiue the prayer or rise from his knees, Jim clutched Blair's hand and wept in silence. "He finally hears the whispers of his own heart." 
    
    
            Startled, Jim whirled around. "Gabe!"
            The man approaching the bed was dirty, dishevelled, of indeterminate
    

age. His dirty, reddish hair and ragged clothes signalled a street person, but the eyes and beatific smile were something else entirely. Gabe claimed to be an angel from God, and Blair had believed him. The two had formed a bond in the short time they'd known each other but Jim had scoffed at his partner's eager suspension of disbelief. Gabe was schizophrenic, surely, and meant well, but an angel? Jim knew there were no such things. 

In the midst of the chaos at the precinct that night Jim had found Blair's dissertation laying on the desk and had read it against Blair's wishes, leading to anger and hurt feelings that could've easily ended their friendship forever. Gabe had wandered up to the Sentinel and said something Jim never forgot: "You didn't ask him: what good does it do for a man to have ears that hear a thousand miles if he cannot listen to the whispers of his own heart?" Gabe was seriously wounded defending a young witness from a hitman, and was rushed to the hospital. Then he 
    
    
    had just disappeared never to be heard from again.      Until now.
            Gabe stood by the bed and smiled down at Blair's body. "He cannot leave."
    

Jim moved to stand by him. "Gabe, he's dead," Jim said tiredly. "Blair 
    
    
    is already gone."       Gabe addressed Jim while gazing at Blair with a mild,
    vacuous expression. "Guide remains while love remains."         "What?" Jim
    

asked sharply. 
    
    
            "Sentinel and Shaman are one. The one who watches and the one who guides,"
    Gabe said.      "Gabe, what do you mean?" Jim asked desperately.
            Gabe continued to smile knowingly. "The Guide will not leave. He heard
    

the whispers of his heart long ago and obeyed. Through danger, through loneliness, through anger-still he stayed. Still he loved." Jim touched Gabe's shoulder. "What are you saying? That Blair loved me, too? Please, Gabe!" Gabe took Jim's hand and closed it around Blair's. "Lend the 
    
    
    tales of your heart your voice."        Jim held tight to Blair's hand. "I
    love you, Chief. You're my Guide and my best friend. I love you."       Gabe
    

laid his other hand on Blair's heart, smiling calmly and muttering in Aramaic. The loud thumping noise made Jim jump until he realized it was coming from Blair's chest. Blair's heart was beating. 
    
    
            Without bothering to question, Jim scooped his Guide into his arms and
    patted his cheek. "Chief? Breathe! Come on, babe! Breathe!"     Blair gasped
    

and opened his eyes. 

Gabe watched the scene peacefully. "Blessed are they who love in the sight of God." Blair stirred in Jim's arms. "Jim? Where am I? Did I fall asleep?" He rubbed his eyes. "Are you still mad at me?" Jim kissed his Guide's lips gently. "I love you, Blair. I love you so much, and we'll never be apart again." Blair goggled up at him. "You love me? Really?" He smiled the heart-melting smile that Jim had thought he'd never see again. "Oh, wow! Hey," Blair looked around, "am I in the hospital? What happened?" "Alex. She killed you. I turned off the machines, you died, and then Gabe, he-" Jim stopped. Gabe was gone. "Gabe?" Blair looked confused. "Was he here?" 

Jim looked around. "He was. I don't know-" he turned his attention back to his Guide. "I'll tell you later." He kissed Blair's cheek. "I love you, Chief. That's all I want to tell you right now." Blair grinned. "I never thought I'd hear you say that. I love you, too." "Then you'll forgive me?" Jim asked. "You'll stay with me?" 
    
    
            Blair laid his head on the Sentinel's shoulder. "Of course. Guides never
    leave."         Jim started. "That's what he said. Gabe."
            Dr. Jackson and his nurse came into the room. "Mr. Ellison, are you-oh
    my God!"        They stared, speechless at the very alive young anthropologist
    

smiling and cuddling with Jim. "Nurse, I need vitals," the doctor said abruptly. "And hook up the EEG and EKG and give me some readouts, stat! 
    
    
    Detective, what happened?"      Jim shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me."
            "Try me."
            "Well," he began, "you know that man who was in here?"
            "What man?" the nurse asked. "I've been at the desk the whole time and
    

no one came in here." Jim smiled. "Never mind. Let's just say he started breathing again and leave it at that." Blair squirmed under the fussing, poking and prodding he was being subjected to. "Jim," he said restlessly. Jim pried his love from the curious ministrations of the medical staff. "Come home, babe," Jim said. 

* * *

She said, "Are you a Christian, child?"  
And I said, "Ma'am, I am tonight."

-Walking in Memphis 


End file.
